


(I get a feeling that) I should have been home yesterday

by pearwaldorf



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Critical Role Spoilers, Gen, conversations in the afterlife, episode s02e26 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf/pseuds/pearwaldorf
Summary: spoilers for S02E26 of Critical Role. I mean it!--A laugh, to Molly’s side. It belongs to a pale humanoid, a little shorter than him. His hair is long and black, tucked behind slightly pointed ears. He’s clad in dark armor, and behind him there is an outline of large wings, restless like they would prefer to be stretched out in flight.





	(I get a feeling that) I should have been home yesterday

“You are not what I expected. But then again, few thought we would move beyond even Stilben.” The voice is male, young-ish, wry. 

“I would die before meeting somebody else’s expectations, and it appears that I have.” 

A laugh, to Molly’s side. It belongs to a pale humanoid, a little shorter than him. His hair is long and black, tucked behind slightly pointed ears. He’s clad in dark armor, and behind him there is an outline of large wings, restless like they would prefer to be stretched out in flight. 

“You have a sense of humor, even if it is a bit dark.”

“I find that’s usually the best time to crack a joke,” Molly replies.

The man purses his lips. “I knew somebody who dealt with things in that way, a long time ago.”

“Where are we?” Molly has never much thought about the afterlife, either his or other people’s conceptions, but he did not expect it to feel so much like an antechamber. It is not a place, but rather a space in which one passes through to something else beyond. Caleb would probably call it liminal. 

“I suppose that depends on how you see things. Some would consider this a moment, the transition between life and death.” 

Molly nods. “If that’s the case, who are you, then? Are you a god?” 

The man shakes his head before he pauses, thinking. “I am told, in some places, they call upon me to ease the passage.” 

“And do you?” 

He tilts his head, demurring. “Does it matter, as long as it gives them comfort?” 

“I’d like to think there’s something backing up those prayers. Seems a bit shit to not deliver if you’re capable.” 

The man chuckles. “You are a forthright one, Mollymauk Tealeaf. I hope that serves your cause more than it gets you in trouble.” 

He nearly says something glib about being able to handle it, before remembering where he is. “It did, but still no regrets. I tried doing something, which is more than I can say for a lot of people.” 

“And if you could continue doing something? What would you say to that?” 

Molly looks at the man. “Are you fucking with me?” 

His face is grave, serious. “I would never fuck around with something this important. My mistress… takes an interest in those that can affect the threads of fate.” He makes a gesture, and a vast web stretches in front of them. He points to one, red in a sea of white. “This is you.” At this closeness, he can see one thread running parallel, then five more. 

“So what happens now?” 

“It’s difficult to say. Fate is always in motion, and not even gods can predict all the consequences of one single change.” 

“Humor me.” 

The man makes a scissors gesture, and the red line stops. The six parallel lines begin to diverge, and the web becomes patchier, until there are sizeable gaps that stretch out beyond. 

“This is only one possible scenario. Perhaps others will take your places, patch the web.” 

“Is that something you would count on?” 

He looks off into the distance, lost in his own thoughts for a moment, and shakes his head.

“Send me back, then.” 

“Are you sure? You could be done with all of it. You could rest.” 

“I spent two years in the ground resting. The living is stupid sometimes, and occasionally it hurts, but it’s better than not feeling anything at all.” 

He thinks of the drag marks, the image of Fjord, Jester, and Yasha in manacles. Beau’s face as she looked at him, expression angry and eyes bright. Nott’s determined expression, Caleb’s frown as he focused on casting the spell. “And I have to get back to my friends.”

The man nods, as if this was what he expected. He pulls Molly’s head down, gives him a kiss on the forehead. His lips are cold, but Molly’s skin tingles as magic spreads through his body. “The gaze of the Matron of Ravens falls upon you, Mollymauk Tealeaf. See that you are worthy of it.” 

For an instant and forever, he falls through the darkness. 

And then he stops.

The ground beneath him is freezing. His front is slightly warmer, but not much. He pushes heavy fabric off his face to see the tapestry has been wrapped around him like a shroud. He staggers to his feet, pulling the rug around him for what little warmth it can provide. 

He’s not sure which direction he’s headed, but soon he starts to see the familiar outline of their previous camp. There are figures huddled around the fire. 

Nott is the first to spot him, pulling frantically at Caleb’s sleeve. Keg is stirring something over the fire, and she drops the spoon in surprise, cursing as she pulls it back out of the hot liquid. 

Beau is at his side, throwing off the tapestry and covering him with an actual blanket, which is soft and warm and the best thing he’s ever felt. 

“We thought you were dead. We wanted to dig a grave, but the ground was too hard.” Her eyes are dry, but her voice is thick with emotion. 

“I was. But--” For the first time that he can remember, he has no words. 

“That is not important right now.” Caleb appears on his other side, and he and Beau sit him down carefully near the fire, press a cup of something warm into his hands. 

“There will be many things to talk about tomorrow, but for now, I think rest is what is on your agenda.” Caleb grasps Molly’s shoulder. “You were not gone for long, but it is still good to have you back.” 

Impulsively, he covers Caleb’s hand with his, squeezes. “I’m glad to be here, where I belong.”


End file.
